Mending Fences
by Dukes126plus
Summary: Oh. Luke’s being intentionally dense again. “I didn’t mean it literally.” Shoot, anyone could tell that. From Southern Comfurts.


_Southern Comfurts_ was, in my mind, another forgettable season two episode. Never cared for it, so when Bo mixed (or maybe just plain missed) his metaphor in one of the earliest scenes, I seized on it. And when the boys showed up in the next scene shirtless, I was highly encouraged and stopped watching right there.

* * *

"You'd be out mending a few fences?" Oh, just look at that scrunched up look to Luke's face, like breakfast isn't sitting well with him.

"What?" They're cleaning stalls, and so far Jesse hasn't suggested anything more ambitious than that for today's activities.

"I don't know." So much for scrunched, now the look borders on annoyed. Which isn't fair; Luke's the one that started this stupid conversation. "You said it, not me. Something about if you had that kind of money you'd be mending fences. Shoot, you won't even mend nothing now, why would you do it if you had money?"

Oh. Luke's being intentionally dense again. "I didn't mean it literally." Shoot, anyone could tell that.

"Even figuratively, it don't make no sense." Of course not, but mostly because Luke wants to prove Bo's still his fool of a baby cousin.

"Sure it does," Bo informs him, tries to make it sound casual as whistling, and doesn't quite make it. There's that quit-picking-on-me tone just beneath the attempted smile in his voice. "I'd find me some girls and mend me some fences."

That there is the kind of face Uncle Jesse would probably still smack Luke upside his head for, if he hadn't left the barn to get help Daisy tidy up the house. Their Comfurt "cousins" are coming, people Bo's hardly met and he's pretty sure there's no real blood between them. Which explains the cleaning frenzy. Real family gets to see dirty dishes and unmopped floors.

"I ain't disputing that you should probably mend some fences, just that part ought to be with their Daddies, not the girls," Luke informs him. "And you don't need no money to go setting things right. Maybe just to pay them off so's they won't come after you with buckshot no more."

This is how Luke trips him up, tries to make him think he doesn't know what he's talking about. But he's pretty sure that mending fences is like—

"Sowing wild oats," Luke's smirking at him, "is probably what you want to do. Too bad you ain't getting no quarter of a million dollars."

Funny, they're supposed to be using the rakes they're leaning on to be doing something, but Luke's too busy entertaining himself with his superior attitude to bother with work. And if he's not going to do his part, neither is Bo. Which means he doesn't need the rake anymore, and can drop it off to the side. Makes it easier to clench his hand down into a fist.

"I don't need," see, and without the rake he can walk right up into Luke's face, "no money to get me a girl." Just what is Luke suggesting, anyway?

All he gets in response to his righteous indignation and looming height is a shrug. "I never said you did. You're the one that said you'd mend fences if you had money. Which still don't make no sense." Luke's even threatening to go back to work, what with the way he's gripping his own rake in both hands again.

"If I had the money, I'd mend fences," Bo says, putting one of his own hands onto Luke's rake. No way is his cousin doing any damn thing until they get this straight. "But I don't need it."

"To mend fences?" Smug little smirk on Luke's face, and it's enough to make Bo want to challenge him to a fence mending duel. Or maybe just punch him.

"Luke!" Fair warning. Leave off now or I'll—

Luke's hand's knotted up in his shirt, yanking him forward. Two hands on a rake, or maybe one. Either as a test or because it's suddenly too heavy, Bo lets go of the thing and hears it clunk on the ground at about the same time as he gets kissed.

"Luke," he tries to say; interesting how his cousin's name suddenly seems to start with an m or three. "What?" _Was that about._

"I was just," his cousin says, letting go of his shirt with a light shove, just enough to put a reasonable space between them. "Mending fences."

Bo couldn't care less about whether that's an insult or not. Mostly he minds how his t-shirt's in a cold knot now instead of a warm one. "You ain't done a good enough job," he points out. "There's still some mending to do." He grabs himself a hold on Luke's shirt, popping a couple of buttons in the aggressive pull he employs. Bumps their noses together on his way to getting the angle right, but that's only because Luke's face is too danged big. Then again, those oversized lips make for some pretty good kissing. And giant hands make for fine rubbing, cover a lot of ground all at once. Make record time in getting rid of Bo's shirts. Of course, his own hands aren't exactly slow at this. Warm skin, hard muscle, curved—

"Boys!" Uncle Jesse. "What are you doing in there?" More m sounds as they pull apart, take two steps away from each other, both trying to figure out where the voice came from. Jesse wheels around the corner into the barn. "You ain't got all day in here. We got comp'ny coming. What's taking you so long?"

Bo grins, trying to make it look relaxed as Saturday fishing. Fails, if Jesse's glare is any indication. "Mending fences?" he answers and gets an elbow in his side.


End file.
